


The Insanity of Us

by akasha_d



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akasha_d/pseuds/akasha_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the touch on his hand, I let my fingers slide their way up his forearm, along tense, slick, biceps, over pronounced shoulder blades to rest at the back of his neck. "If you wanted permission to court me Enishi, all you had to do was ask.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Insanity of Us.  
Chapter1: Ghosts.

  
Winter was a taste in my mouth this evening. Tart and sweet it showed the barest hint of spring in the far, far distance. My nose and throat were stripped raw by the frost I inhaled with every breath, but the night kept me restless and I had no desire to protect my face nor return to my carefully warmed bed.

  
Resting in my hand was an idle cup of tea that I had all but forgotten about. It was brewed thick and sweet. The normal bitter tang of green tea muted heavily by the distinct and now familiar coiling sweet taste of fresh honey.

  
It was strange to note that Kenshin, soon after both of us earned a steady and decent income, made it a point to procure fresh honey at every chance he got. The man had a sweet tooth the size of a small country and only allowed himself to indulge when he was well into his thirties. He also felt the need to inflict it upon those around him.

  
I smiled at the memory of Kenshin’s face as he took his first morning sip of honey-pretending-to-be-tea and the look of utter disgust that crossed Kenji’s face whenever he caught his father drinking what he called an abomination to all that was decent and drinkable.

  
My two redheads.

  
As I sat by the open arms of my veranda, I watched the cruel, grinning moon above give odd life to the shadows that crept along my garden. In sunlight, it was nothing much to look at, mostly because my skills at cooking only slightly surpassed my skills in the area of horticulture by the slimmest of margins. But by night, when pale light leached all colour from the garden, it took on a bleak, graceful, silhouette that I, with age, found pleasing.

  
It was an ideal night and stage to awaken dead ghosts…or to put them to rest.

  
Beside me, leaning against the half shadowed wooden pillar of the house veranda, Sano chortled to himself. Lanky as ever, he tucked his arms around his one bended knee and smiled through his ever present fish bone.

  
"Darn it Jou-Chan, ya’ planning on writing Haiku’s next? I can imagine it already, I am a shit gardener, trees die, where is my axe?"

  
I smiled.

  
Sano was in Mongolia or some other equally exotic land and has long since given up writing. As far as I knew he was still wanted in Tokyo, and Saito was nothing if not determined to nail him bodily into prison.

  
"Hey it's the thought that counts! I am with you in spirit! And don't diss my writing k, you try sending mail on a ship constantly being dunked by water. Paper and water don't go ya know!"

  
I nodded and blinked. I tried my best not to answer out loud to these conversations. I was already considered eccentric by the townspeople, if I started sprouting off to invisible people I had no doubt I will be labelled insane and my currently bustling school would die. Again.

  
Before me, in the arching shadows of the lone sakura tree, Yahiko ran like an enraged chicken after a certain little boy with flaming red hair. They both were alternately screeching and giggling as they chased each other around the yard for some perceived insult or other. It was another twisted parody of the past re-enacted in my loneliness.

  
Loneliness in the end was my bitter companion.

  
Yahiko was no longer a boy. He was a tall and handsome man. A master of the sword, he had long since earned the title of warrior. Like any warrior, he left to find himself. He left to find the greatness that lives with him. I harbor no doubt that he will find it.

  
Kenji, my son. He, like his father before him felt the need to prove himself. Leaving home to be 'worthy' of a legacy he hated with every breath in his body. I prayed every day that the path he chose would not be the echo of guilt and blood that his father carried. But listening to the talk from the front-lines in Korea, I fear that the ‘bravest warrior of modern Japan’ would carry the flame of red hair that marked his sire.

  
Their echoing footsteps and laughter seemed to be louder than humanly possible. Then again, there was nothing truly human about them.

  
From a familiar corner of the yard, before the wooden frame of the Kamiaya well, Kenshin continued his lifetime quest to put a dent in the laundry pile. Snickering to himself, Kenshin made no attempt to hide the fact that he heard Sano's words. The man's hearing was legendary, and after living with him for as many years I have merely subscribed myself to ignoring the fact that he always knew what anyone was talking about at any one time in this house.

  
"Ma Ma Sano, my Kaoru has a great many talents, the least of which is poetry." Kenshin continued through the motions of laundry as though two boys were not running circles around him shouting insults at each other.

  
Kenshin. My love and husband had long since left me. Not for a battle or for duty or guilt, but he left from a weakness within himself. His heart, brittle from long exposure to impossible odds, and battles no man should survive, gave way not two years ago. I became his widow at the age of 32.

  
For some strange reason, he never appeared close to me on nights like these. He came either to the well or the kitchen, never standing by me or speaking directly to me. Many things could be read from this, I feared all of them, so I avoided thinking about it too much.

  
I was already disturbed enough, I didn’t need to ponder facts that could disturb me further.

  
"Once again Tanuki you somehow manage to make the world revolve around you! I honestly wonder how you and Ken-san managed to be together at all! It must have been a constant match of who can one up the other the giant pyramid of guilt."

  
Megumi once again managed to be both my saviour and bane. The woman knew me too well and subsequently always knew exactly where to strike with her sharp tongue.  
She snorted, and gracefully glided her way to the veranda from the shadows around the corner. Coolly settling herself down, she waved a beautifully packaged bento before my face. "Despite fact that you seem rather proud of your limited, and I do mean limited, skills in the kitchen, I have taken it upon myself to ensure that you do not starve or choke on the burnt edges of whatever meat you have at hand."

  
True enough, I was no grand chef like Megumi or even Kenshin but I did feed my husband and son without killing them for at least 10 years.  
It took years and years of patient training from Kenshin himself even for that much.

  
"Stuff it Foxy! And gimme the grub, I am starving here!" Sano smirked at the doctor and dully patted his stomach. "A man's got to eat!"

  
"A man?" She asked, arching a fine brow, "I see no man here, as for pet roosters, I believe corn is the preferred feed."

  
On that thread they continue. Pushing barbs back and forth between them like a shared toy. They insult everything about each other from the smallest malformed nail to the way Sano’s bandages were tied seemingly by a blind toothless old hag who must have assumed that she was swaddling some kind of monkey.  
I laugh, I couldn't help myself. The both of them have been in this constant state of 'somewhat relationship' that reflected off small children who pulled pigtails and threw mud purely for the attention.

  
Megumi was practicing medicine in Aizu, her home town. She left soon after Sano. News of some family that survived the fire came to her and she was determined to return to them. I suspected that her decision to leave was cemented by Sano's own journey and her loneliness without his hounding.

  
She wrote occasionally.

  
"Oh great! You now give points to the fox for writing!" "Sano cried out, "I told you, I want to, but water and paper man!"

  
"Don't blame the sea for your absolute laziness. I highly doubt that those chicken scratches you call writing qualify as a written form of communication anyway. Perhaps it is only meant to be read by other roosters?" Megumi replied, trusting the bento at him.

  
Her words settled into their final echoes when I noticed an ill and chilling silence. An unnatural sort of stillness in the air that throughout my life has proven to be the harbinger of challenging times.

  
For an instant, a second in time that I was certain could not have existed in reality, I was sure that Kenshin glanced back at me with eyes the colour of molten gold.

  
The hair at the back of my neck promptly stood in attention.

  
My two boys seemed to recognize the situation and stared at Kenshin then me in the adorably blank way that only children could do.

  
"Kaoru-donno, might receive a guest soon." Kenshin smoothly got up and wiped his soapy hands on the apron he religiously wore when doing the laundry. "I shall go make the tea."  
With those words and a quiet shuffle, he promptly faded away into shadow.

  
I blinked, stunned. Kenshin, memory or otherwise had never in his married life up and leave any situation without copious warning. In his self-given penance for the grief that he caused me during our courting years, he swore never to leave without both a warning and my blessing first.

  
Megumi on the other hand seemed to expect this and only sighed.

  
"Yeesh, you'd think the guy would grow a pair of balls when it comes to this, but NO. Still the wuss he ever was. He knows as well as we do that this has to happen."

  
I glanced at Sano, my voice still sealed away in my head, I am tempted for once to break my own silence and ask.

  
"Yo Busu! I'm gonna drag the stinky beast to the river to see if it can unstink him. We'll be safe so don't come hounding us ok!" Yahiko yelled,clenching his hand in the collar of Kenji's Gi.

Kenji himself seemed to struggle desperately in Yahiko’s grip. "Don't call Okasan Busu you no-brain! And I'm not the stinky one, You are!"

  
Not waiting for my approval, Yahiko muttered darkly to himself as he dragged the protesting redhead behind him towards the front gates before they too faded away like diluted ink.  
As they left I could have sworn that the icy breeze, dropped further in temperature. I shivered and dully rubbed my arms. I was not manic believer in omens, but I was having an ill feeling about what was yet to come.

  
Worried, I glanced at Megumi and Sanosuke, both of whom seemed to be rather tight lipped about the ongoing events. For the first time, in a long time I questioned the true reality behind my 'imagined' companions.

  
"Oh come on Jou-chan, it aint gonna bite you or anything. She just wanted to talk. Ken is just being a wus."

  
She?

  
My mind grasped at the thread and slowly begun to unravel it into a sensible picture. Kenshin for all of his wondering had limited experience with women. He was a good looking man, but as a Hitokiri he caused fear not passion, as a rouroni he triggered pity not love. There were few women that he would know well enough to anticipate, and only one he would fear.  
The air around me cooled even more.

  
"I think she's got it." Megumi said idly, running her fingers through her long black hair. To a passer-by she looked calm and collected. Anyone in our little family knew that when Megumi fussed with her hair, she was agitated.

  
"Tomoe?" I ask, breaking my silence with the name of the ghost who scared my husband well beyond the marks on his face

.  
"Bingo, always knew you were a smart one Jou-Chan. But don't fret, there really isn't any point to it now." Sano leaned back and rested his weight on his elbows in his trademark slouch. "All you can do now, is hold on and enjoy the ride."

  
His words were nearly muffled completely but a sudden, rough wind that shook the empty branches of the sakura tree in the garden. It was so sudden and violent that I instinctively thrust both my arms up to shield my face.

As sudden as the burst comes, it dies away.

  
It is more training than brawn that forces me to glance around the garden for potential threats. As I said before, there is a long history of ill omens and chills in my life.  
My strangling fear makes it nearly too difficult for me to look.

  
The first thing I note is that I am alone again. Sano and Megumi have faded off to wherever these figments of my imagination go to when they leave. I curse them to be all kinds of bastards.

  
It wouldn't have been so unnerving if I was not alone.

  
It was a ripple that finally caught my attention. The shadows blow the barren sakura tree moved and rippled like water in the ocean. The darkness shifting and arching in ways that were wrong. It was unnatural and disturbing.

  
Fear became a lead brick on my tongue.

  
The ripple became more violent, lashing out in waves of inky blackness as though someone or something was trying to tear through it.

  
My head was gleefully going through every story I have ever heard about Oni's and Yureis and their need to feed on human flesh.

These stories only got more vivid with age and boredom.

The rippling darkness was finally pierced by a pale, nearly glowing hand. Around me the howling wind started to resemble unholy shrieks.

The artic chill that shot through my body at the sight made my hair stand on end.

  
She was there.

  
Hand, made way for arm, arm for shoulder, shoulder for head and finally her whole torso was revealed.

  
It was all truly a graceful production. If one didn't take into account the morbidity of it.

  
Though half draped in shadow, she looked stunningly delicate and otherworldly.

  
What I could see of her kimono was as pale as the grim moon, with only a suspicious crimson bloom over the left side of her chest. She stood just at the edges of the dark ring of shadows below the sakura tree and stared at me with dark knowing eyes.

Once again the wind howled its disapproval.

When she spoke I felt the breath stolen from my very lungs.

_"Save him"_

  
For a moment I was sorely tempted just to get up, go to my room and pass out. If I could have moved, I probably would have done it. Her voice was soft, not annoyingly so, but delicate like thin ice on a leaf. I nearly expected to hear the chimes of tiny bells along with the haunting sound.

  
I had the sudden, irrational need to dig my own grave and lie in it. Get it all over and done with once and for all. All said and done, this woman was the figure that haunted the steps of my husband for so many years. It was her in her eyes and image that I judged my merits and failures as a woman.

That lead brick on my tongue promptly gave birth and raised a family. I couldn't make a sound and part of me didn't really want to.

  
My mind was running around in unhelpful circles switching between saying "Oh Kami-sama" and "I want my Outtosan!"

  
She strained forward but was unable to move. It seemed as though she was held back in place but was desperate for whatever it was that she sought me out for.  
I was terrified that that 'something' was my life or extensions of it. A tiny voice in the back of my mind began to pray very reverently.

  
_"Save him. Please! Save him!"_ She tried to raise her voice, but the protesting wind still muffled most of it. It was this blast of cold wind, rushing past my face like a bucket of mid winter well water that finally awakened me from my mental holiday.

  
Him? Save him? Something in the very center of my mind perked up and listened. As far as I know the only him that she and I both shared was Kenshin. And I was certain, despite his many nearly superhuman gifts, my late husband was definitely closer to her at this point than I was. Spiritually speaking of course.

"Who? Save who?" I croaked out. Not the first time, I both thank and curse God for my less than smart temper and impatience. I dislike puzzles and mysteries. They all lead to great tragedy and I was fully done with them.

  
_"He comes"_ She answered with a distracted glance behind her "He comes broken, teach him, fix him, save him. I cannot." Her voice wavered and it sounded almost like her very words were weeping.

  
_"You are the last one."_

  
Her final words nearly completely muffled by the violent wind tugging at her. In a firm graceful sweep she thrusts something into the air, as though throwing a paper ball at me before the inky night and wind once again robbed me of my sight.

  
I blinked.

  
And then blinked again. Nothing. There was nothing below the empty sakura tree other than dull shadows. There was no one beside me for company. And definitely no hint of long dead spectres.

  
Then why was I shivering as though someone not only walked, but was dancing on my grave?  
Winter.

  
It was winter. Of course I was shivering. I probably slept off thinking odd thoughts and was sting outside in the cold for hours.

  
It had to be a dream.

  
No God was cruel enough to hint otherwise.

  
Shaking like frightened rabbit, I gave myself a sound mental smack for not only sleeping outside like a sneaking child but dredging up ghosts that were best left alone. With a forced steady hand I grasped a hold of my now dim lantern and reached out to grasp the ice cold tea tray to return it to the kitchen. It has been a long night and I was weary.  
For some strange reason, my mind was still going on in its odd mantra of "I want my outtosan." I pushed it aside.

  
A tiny slash of pink caught my eye.

  
On my lap, resting on my plain blue, winter house robe was a tiny blossom.

  
I recognized it immediately.

  
I always liked the plant, it was pretty and it smelt nice. But for obvious reasons Kenshin avoided such trees like the plague. As a result, it was not present in my own garden, out of respect for his peace of mind.

  
It was a delicate, pink, plum blossom.

  
Tomoe

  
My shaking returned with a vengeance.

  
My hand instinctively reached for it and unfortunately proved to me that this was the real thing.

  
I could not touch my imagined specters and yet the petals of the flower were cool, smooth and undeniably real.

  
My mind forces me through the logic of this discovery.

  
It was late January, not even the toughest weeds dared to peek their heads out of the ground and tempt spring. The petals were cool smooth but also soft in the way that paper flowers, even the most exquisite ones, were not.

  
Plum trees bloom in August.

  
This bloom should not exist. Not here and definitely not now.

  
I lean over and try my best not to throw up.

  
"Save him"

  
My stretched sanity did not need this


	2. Of Daggers and Doorways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

Mornings were wonderful, glorious things.

At the pinnacle of summer, morning wind was crisp and fresh, a cool reprieve from the burning punishment of the hot day. In the pits of winter, the bed would be warm enough that you could appreciate the power of a warm blanket against the chill wind and gloat at the power of human ingenuity.

I regularly woke up inches before dawn and enjoyed minutes of the sun crawling the dawn's way through the rice paper walls. This of course was right before I dragged myself out of bed for my morning absolutions, stretch, quick breakfast and cheerful greeting for my limping batch of students.

And I use the word limp literally, if anything I find that I became more brutal in my training with age.

Kamiya Kassin Ryu was not for pansies.

"OY BUSU! Get your lazy butt out of bed! You wouldn't let me sleep in for my winter classes and just caus' you're home alone doesn't mean you get to be lazy!" I swear, even if Yahiko was not physically here, the annoying echoes of his presence tempted me to find my bokken and beat his head in, wherever he may be.

"I'm up, I'm up." Yahiko may you sneeze yourself into a lake I gleefully chanted in my head.

With all the optimism of a condemned man I force my eyes to open.

And saw pink.

I blinked blankly at it for a full minute before my reluctant brain engaged itself. The tiny flower perched on the edge of my bed, directly in my line of sight linked up with the memories associated with it.

Tomoe.

Yahiko snorted from his perch on the corner of my futon, still clad in his sleeping robe the young man of apparently 14 was enjoying my suffering. "Thought you could forget didn't ya? Fat hopes there busu."

I roll over and pound my fists into my futon. It is a childish display, but one that used to be satisfying whenever I was frustrated. It has been many years since I indulged myself.

Why. Why did this always happen to me? I must have had some god awful karma to have grief, confusion and the dead or missing thrust at me throughout my life.

Perhaps I was a murderous monk? I mean, that must be bad enough to disserve this level of torment, right?

Yahiko got up from his perch and prodded me with his ungrateful foot "Yeah right busu, like you could have ever been a monk. I would sooner believe that they would make a monk out of Sano. Get moving already, you are going to be late for your own class!"

Letting out a puff of breath, I still my little tantrum and glared at the innocent bloom. I could only barely restrain myself from thrusting out a leg and tripping the boy.

Not like he would fall anyway.

I wanted to lay in bed and let whatever disaster that was yet to come, involving a certain 'him' that I was meant to 'save' come to pass without me. It was so very tempting to do just that.

I grumbled under my breath about ungrateful brats and the evils of the world. My little bout of wishful thinking was pointless in the end. I already knew that my stubborn nature would have none of it.

My stubbornness and ghosts that is.

"Damn it busu! How many times have I got to tell ya. I am not a ghost. Don't go around wishing for my death like that!" Yahiko screeched and in typical fashion stomped his way to the shoji door and slammed it open and shut with his exit.

My ghosts had at least tact enough to leave me when I wished to change out of my sleeping robe.

Going through my morning routine with all the awareness of a dead butterfly, I finally centered myself just as I opened my front gate.

My students had all of an hour before they were late and with the mood I was in, they would sorely regret it.

With my attention drawn by the thoughts of all the swings that would be performed I miss it till it nearly smacks me in the face.

**Dagger.**

It took my still strained brain a moment to comprehend the sight.

There was a dagger stabbed into my front door.

Considering the fact that I was already unnerved by my visitors the previous evening, I took the discovery remarkably well.

After all it has been years since threats of the dagger or blade variety were brought down onto the Kamiya Kassin Dojo. My reaction to such should be predictable.

I laughed.

What did they expect? Did they, whoever they were, expect me to whimper like some child at the sight of a sharp pointy object stabbed into a piece of wood?

I nearly wish Sano were here to appreciate the humor in this.

I have seen swords run through living human beings. I have seen death it all its many masks step onto my doorway and tell me that I was next. I have seen loved ones hurt, broken and bleeding.

This was nearly decorative by comparison.

Curious, I took a step closer to the blade and studied it. There was a lot you could tell about an individual from the blade they used.

It was elegant. I guessed it was about the length of my forearm and polished to a painful sheen. The parts of the actual blade I could see were sharpened to a deadly edge. This weapon was no wall ornament.

Silver in color, the hilt of it was etched in a pattern that served both as an easy grip as well as a decorative addition.

A white tiger glared at me from its perch encircling the blades handle.

This was no joke, and definitely not a challenge from one of the more chauvinistic Dojo's that still tried to inflict their views on what should be the relationship between women and kendo.

This instrument was designed to serve its deadly purpose no doubt but was also designed to appeal to a decidedly unique taste.

Most men in this town had all the taste of a rotten potato.

I noted something odd about the engraving of the blade. Something about the design of the tiger was not quite Japanese in origin. The edges were to sharp, the glare too fierce.

I have seen etchings and sculptures from 'exotic China' on display in front of the municipal hall often enough to recognize the trend. No, this tiger was defiantly forged in China.

Sure that I had no need to report anymore 'harassment' cases to the local police officers I gingerly tucked my hand around the kinfe's handle and try to pry it out of my front door.

I was surprised by how much effort it took for me to loosen it from the wood let alone free it.

Whoever stuck it into my door was not only strong but tall as well. The hilt, when in the wood, was about level with my nose, meaning that the stabber was probably a full head and a half taller than me if he struck the door at chest level, which generally was the case.

So I had a tall, strong man, my mind hypostasized, who might come from or have visited China, come to my front gate and stab it with a very pretty pointy object.

And to leave such a pretty and no doubt expensive gift behind was defiantly no random fluke.

I simply was not that lucky.

It was then that I notice the tiny bit of parchment clinging to the blade.

Parchment? Did he leave a message?

I looked around the area, but give up before I truly begin. The area is a mess of sand and dead branches. Once again Kami-sama has a good laugh at my luck.

Some poor man, with some grudge or other, leaves a message stabbed to my door, and the message gets blown away by a passing wind.

Perhaps his luck isn't so hot either.

If I recall correctly, the wind last night was quiet violent. I shudder to remember why it was unnaturally so.

Hold up.

My mind rewinds and came to its own conclusions without my prompting.

I had a plum blossom, sitting innocently on my dresser, linked to a memory of a dead woman asking me to 'save him'. I now have a dagger stabbed into my front door, clearly made in china, stabbed by a 'him' with a missing note.

Three bets say that the two were linked.

"Kamiya-Sensei!"

I blinked, shaken from my mental rile against karma and thoughts about the number of people I must have killed as a monk by a deep, familiar voice. I turned warily around only to be greeted with the deep thumping sounds of footsteps slowing down from a run and the worried figure of my star pupil.

"Sensei! Is that another challenge? I swear I will go after those idiots myself and beat them to an idiot pulp!" Hijiri Takemoto could, at times be just as bad as Yahiko when it came to being impulsive.

The young man joined my dojo about thirteen years ago. He came to me as a tiny, wimpy brat, and in time and with training has grown into a giant of a man that could easily tower over even Sanosuke.

He has proven himself to be one of my more diligent pupils. He was not naturally skilled in sward fighting, but with the amount of effort he put into training placed him nearly on par with both Yahiko and Kijin. He now held the title of assistant instructor, as they both did before the road called them.

At the age of 23 he was probably harder on my introductory students than even I was.

"No, Take-kun, this is something a little different." I sighed and gave him a warning glare "The last time you 'went after those idiots' as you say, several students from that dojo mysteriously quit on the spot and unless I'm mistaken, moved provinces as well."

He grinned unrepentantly and flicked his hand through his dark, shaggy hair. He proceeded to proudly swing his bokken to rest on his shoulders in what could be perceived as a manly pose only by the blind and stupid.

"What can I say Kamiya-sensei? When I use my words, idiots find themselves getting a valuable education."

I snorted at that and once again studied the blade in hand. I knew that despite his act Take had the bad habit of worrying about me to the point of annoyance and would, at the drop of a hat, defend me from anything and everything that might be tempted to harm me.

I wondered if part of my bad karma included overbearing men?

I paused at the thought, savoring it in my mind.

There was something…something important I was missing here.

My mind stilled and picked at the word. Worrying at it like a tenacious dog with a bone.

Why were the words 'overbearing men' suddenly so interesting?

In an instant combination of karma, bad luck and the random thought processes of my mind I knew.

I did not only know, I  **knew.**

The puzzle seemed to flow together as these things sometimes do. Like a kata you tried over and over again to master only to get it flawlessly after you take a break.

Overbearing men with bad karma.

Tall with notable strength.

A white tiger insignia

A high end dagger from China

Overbearing men with a dead sibling.

A visit from said sibling

Oh royal shit.

It was Enishi.

The dagger belonged to Enishi.

I was certain of it.

My luck was strange enough to warrant it.

Why the HELL would Enishi have an issue with me? Perhaps he has not heard of Kenshin's death and wanted a re-match?

I nearly snort to myself. The only way he didn't hear about it is if he lived underground for the past two years. Even Misao in Kyoto heard about it and sent a pigeon with her condolences within a day of his death. Granted she was the head of a spy network, but even at that distance, the speed was quite impressive. I was pretty sure some hill men in Hokkaido were talking about it within the week.

My Kenshin was simply that popular.

" _Save him"_

Tomoe's words rang through my head with terrible finality.

I already knew what needed to be done and strangely enough I was looking forward to it.

What did it say about one's sanity when one was looking forward to meeting up with a mad man?

I sighed to myself and looked at the dagger once again. This whole situation could become really ugly, really fast.

"Sensei? So, where is it from and what do you want me to do?" Take asks, as eager as a little puppy.

I smile at the analogy. At times he really did resemble a cute puppy.

"Nothing Take-kun. This is nothing at all."

If something was meant to happen, it would happen. I could rant and rail and curse high hell for it, but all that would do is leave me breathless.

I swiftly turned around and marched my way to the kitchen to get some tea. No human being should be forced to contend with upheavals of this nature without strong tea and some meditation.

Behind me, Taka trails away looking agitated and muttering about the damage to the front door.

Perhaps I did learn a thing or two from Kenshin and his infinite patience. Everything that would happen, would happen as it should.

I could accept that.

But I didn't have to like it.

 


	3. The Beginning of Interesting Times

**The insanity of us**

**Chapter 3** :The Beginning of Interesting Times

My life, was a string of instances that morbidly insisted on repeating themselves.

I was born. My mother died. I grew up. My father died. I got married. Dr Gensai died. I had a son. Some years later Kenshin died.

I should really stop having milestones in my life. I was running out of people to lose.

After my fathers' death, I was shunned and left alone. After Kenshin's death, everyone else left and I was left alone.

So I was not to my great surprise to me, that the next night was exactly the same as the previous one.

The great wheel of misfortune turns for one Kamiya, once known as Himura, Kaoru.

The night was cold, sharp and bitter.

The moon hung like a cruel grin, perhaps a slightly lesser of one, in the sky, its crescent shape giving only enough light to create darker shadows and bleed all colors to grey.

Joy to me.

Mayhap my last life involved me being not only a murderous monk but a murderous pillaging monk?

Out there, among the darkened edges of the garden, where no light dare enter, he waited.

I wonder what he saw, when he looked back at me.

Did he see a woman, keeling on the veranda of her silent, empty house looking blankly out into a dark garden? Or did he see a warrior awaiting a rival in an empty battlefield with tea tray ready and two cups waiting.

Whatever he saw, he thought it fit to lurk out there, like some ill omen, just waiting to pounce.

I am no fool. By all means an average person would have no inkling of his presence, he is simply that good. But of all the things I was, average was never it.

And it was time he learnt that.

"Would you care for some tea Enishi-san, it must be cold out there and I have no intention of waiting out here for a stalker all night." I believe in simplicity. Not the polite, mind bending grate that my late husband specialized in when faced with an opponent who wanted to observe. I was more of 'poke it in the eye and grab a bull by the horns' type character.

One tiny part of me wondered if I was calling the shadow by the wrong name. I mean, it could honestly be anyone really. I was no great police detective.

I swear I nearly heard a snort from the shadows.

He came forward, walking with a languid air that makes me wonder if he is the one that was actually meant to be here and not me.

I hit the unfortunate nail on the head. Enishi. I'm not sure whether I should pat myself on the back or ram my head against the veranda post.

He stared from the shadows with wary eyes. I suppose after our last meeting he expected to be attacked, at the very least verbally so. His half hidden nervousness coupled with his new, strange physique tempted me to do something terribly motherly

I was a woman and the situation aside, Yukishiro Enishi from all those years ago was a prime example of manhood. I might not have liked it, but I was very, very aware of that fact.

This creature before me is but a whisper of that man.

His hair, the same startling white was the only distinct feature about him that I recognized.

His face was narrow and his eyes, free from those odd glasses, were bloodshot and troubled. His gazed flickered back and forth as though he was expecting all hell to chase after him from the shadows of my house. His body though still carried some distinction had only a fraction of the muscles that made him such a grand fighter.

" _Save him."_

My own head was gleefully spinning in circles going "Save me!"

He stopped just beyond the curling shadow of the bare sakura tree. His eyes, dull but not lifeless seemed to take everything around me in all at once.

The desperate edge etched to his features was nearly alarming.

As the minutes ticked by with no further movement on his part, my impatience decided to take matters into its own hands.

"It is good to see you Enishi-san. It has been a while." As though coaxing a spooked animal I kept my tone smooth but not condescending. I didn't want to scare him, insulting him was worse.

You could end up firmly dead that way.

He relaxed a little. All things said and done, we were Japanese, and propriety and ritual were two of the best shields of discomfort.

Kenshin taught me that.

For a moment he eyed me, as though I was trying to lull him into a relaxed state, and then stab him with my broomstick.

Success! Thank the lord for mindless ceremony!

"I am as well as can be expected for a fugitive." His voice was the same smooth baritone that made me think of the western drink I once had with Misao. Kokolate I think it was called.

"Still being hunted down? It is good to know you can elude them."

He snorted.

"The Police are like a rabid dog after a piece of meat. They know what they want, but little else. Their collective lack of brain makes it easier that it should."

Now this was Enishi. Cold callous and calculating, carrying the ego the size of a small country and the pride of a king, he was not a man to be trifled with.

Strangely enough I preferred this man to the shadow creature there before.

Feeling the thrill of a minor success I thought it best to up the ante a little. This was a dangerous man, I had to teach him that I was no weak woman either.

In a smooth move I removed the blade from the folds of my obi. I had wrapped it in several layers of rags beforehand to prevent it from slicing through my clothes while we were having this conversation.

Being nude in the presence of a known mad man was a little too insane for my taste.

"I believe this is yours Enishi-san. It is a lovely blade, though most of my students didn't appreciate the dent it made in my door." I paused and raised my brow at him. "I must apologize because I was unable to retrieve the message that was attached with it. The wind took it away before I could manage to read it."

In what I hoped was a smooth motion, I placed the blade in the waiting tea tray. At the very least, he would have to come forward to retrieve it.

His own brow raised and a strange, calculating gleam appeared in his eyes.

"That is my blade Kamiya but I left no message there." His tone was smooth as he continued, nearly artificially so. "I dislike repeating myself and in this modern age the concept of a blade bearing a message stuck to a doorway is positively medieval."

Did he just call me old fashioned? My ire, rarely ever far from the surface bubbled up.

"Well some things are best left to tradition, like say, making an introduction through the front door? Scaling walls just doesn't carry the weight of a formal meeting." Bite that whitey.

He quirked his lips in a morbid parody of a smile "And yet you have prepared a welcome." He gestured vaguely to the tea set.

I took his words as a sort of truce. I have lived with proud stupid men long enough to recognize it.

"And you assume that just because I advocate tradition, I practice it? I lived in a house full of men for a year without any chaperone, explain to me how that qualifies as traditional?"

In a smooth practiced motion, I poured the tea into the second cup. "Join me or don't, it is up to you, but I will not spend the evening talking to my garden."

I have learnt a thing or two from raising my brood of volatile men. In high stress situations it was best to give two possible options and hope that the man in question took the right one.

He didn't disappoint me.

He came closer and I was grateful to note that despite this haggard appearance he looked neat and well cared for, if a bit strange, in a black western style suite.

I might not have resisted my still overpowering need to mother if he was any other way.

"Would you invite a tiger into your garden Kaoru-san, even one who covered in blood?" He asked, there were flickers of something dark and shadowy in his eyes that hinted at the voices of his own ghosts.

I read into his words, as I knew I was meant to. He was looking for judgment, seeking out those who would bring down an axe on his head out of pure anger for his actions.

I held up the poured cup towards him in an offering.

He was looking in the wrong place.

I would try my best not to judge him. I perhaps was more practiced than most in the art of non-judgment. I was, after all, married to the greatest assassin in Japan's history, raised a yakuza pick pocket, housed a brawling street fighter and befriended an opium doctor.

I wonder what my associations implied about me.

"I wouldn't invite a tiger into my house, it wouldn't need an invitation. If it came, I would let it stay, if it went, I would let it go. Nature has her way Enishi, to try and accept or reject it would be idiotic. Though I would prefer it if said tiger would not leave dead bodies at my front door. It would be a little hard to explain such things to my students."

He came closer but did not sit. Instead he stood before me and stared at me with an intensity that I found unnerving.

The silence built up. In my head I could see him weigh my words, measure them, look through them, stab them with his katana. I was not certain whether I should have been comforted or worried by the wild fancies that I seemed to be able to take these days.

Speaking of wild fancies, Megumi, in all her ghostly glory decided to grace me with her presence at that moment. Fading to life, it the usual way I knew I was in for grief the moment she raised a brow.

The fact that Yahiko as well decided to share his presence with a face that suggested that he was sucking at a wasabi root didn't make me feel much better about him either.

"Well tanuki, you certainly get yourself into royal messes don't you?" From the corner of my eye, I saw her seated beside me looking as though she was born there. Megumi was cool, calm and collected and I was infinitely grateful for that, if nothing else.

She scoffed. "As though you would survive a day without bumbling through your life if it weren't for me."

"Tell blondie here to kiss a hot frying pan and get his creepy butt out of my house!" Yahiko finished off with a rude gesture towards Enishi. I wondered as to where he learnt that one.

I remained wisely silent.

Enishi's eyes narrowed and to my great horror he glanced at what should seem, to him, like an empty spot beside me. My ghosts were after all, for my eyes only.

He blinked once and it seemed like a great burden slid off his shoulders.

He straightened up and gave a light sigh. He reached out and unfurled his hand palm up right below my offered cup. I had nearly forgotten that I carried it. I felt the slight upward push of pressure from his palm and dutifully released the cup into his care.

It was a transaction with absolutely no physical contact except for our locked gaze. It was an intimate moment that made me want to shiver.

"Flirting now tanuki?" Megumi asked, flicking a sharp gaze at me.

I froze at the accusation.

Flirting? Me? With HIM? Whatever Megumi was looking at, it certainly was not reality.

My sudden hesitation must have been displayed on my face because Enishi reacted.

His face didn't really change in expression, but there was a flicker of something that could have been hurt in his eyes that I would have missed if I was not looking.

I will not go into why I was looking for hurt in the eyes of my ex-kidnapper. I myself didn't know the answer.

My action seemed to cement something within him. Something I was not sure I liked to see.

He nodded imperceptibly as though agreeing with some inner monolog and promptly downed the tea. Emptying the cup in one gulp.

"Thank you for the tea and the conversation." He handed me the tea cup and in not so many words seemed to fold into himself.

"What?" I asked

His face was empty there was nothing there, his voice was a hollow twang. I suddenly felt very, very dirty.

I should be stabbed to death with a Katana.

I grasp the tea cup that he handed to me more from years and years of social etiquette beaten into my head by a Dr. Gensai that any actual conscious decision.

"This evening is interesting but unsuitable. I will come again another time, if its acceptable."

"Now you've done it Tanuki. One look from you and you manage to make even a qualified psychopath run." Megumi stated, not even bothering to look at me. There was an odd arch or her brow that said he mind was chewing on something serious.

"Joy, the white ape finally got the hint!" Yahiko cheered from his corner. I wish his ghost this evening was a little more mature that the 14 year old version of him.

"Leaving so soon?" There was an edge of panic in my voice. In my head I was in chaos. Please, please don't go. I knew myself well enough to know that if he went on my account, sleep would be long in coming.

"Despite what the rest of the country thinks, I am not fond of seeing terror in the eyes of those whom I meet. Especially if it’s over tea." Those were bitter, bitter words.

Ok Kaoru, you dug yourself into this mess, grab a shovel and dig your way out! Choices, choices. To lie and be found out or tell the truth and be labelled insane. Oh wait. I was talking to Enishi, insanity had to be some kind of prerequisite.

I sighed. Perhaps not full blown honesty, but as close as.

“Enishi, it wasn’t you.” I rubbed my hand into my bangs as Megumi’s shade snorted elegantly into her sleeve. “I have lead an interesting life. Some would say too interesting.” I sighed and looked him in the eye, the quirk of his brow told me that he was listening, but barely. “Sometimes memories, and perhaps not-memories do not die as they should.”

“Memories of me?” He asks, voice still and deep as a bottomless lake.

I smile. “Not at all. Aside from my worry for Kenshin, my time with you was relatively peaceful.”

He spun so quickly that the wind that it created hit me straight in the face. His eyes were no longer completely sane.

"Peaceful! There was nothing about that time that was peaceful. Didn't you ever ask where did those bruises on your throat come from? I nearly killed you with my own two hands. Your death was part of my great plan. So do not think that can estimate my thoughts and actions. You cannot."

"Bastard!" Yahiko attempted to lunge at Enishi, I assume to 'ghost' him to death but Megumi wisely caught a hold of his gi and refused to let go. The swears that the young man released would have made Sano proud.

I recognized guilt when I saw it. And this man had guilt written all over him. Now we were getting somewhere.

"And yet you didn't. I'm still here, I'm not dead and I'm not stupid enough not to notice a bruised throat and not link it to your hands. And I am STILL here WITH my stupid tea waiting for you to sit the hell down and talk. You are by far not the worst killer I've met nor are you the first one that has tried to put an end to me."

He eyed me once again. Then red flush that came with his anger faded slowly away and he shook his head and blinked a few times.

"You tempt fate Kamiya."

"So do you Yukishiro."

For a moment we stare at each other in a silent battle for dominance. I was no woman he could push around.

He surprised me by looking away first.

"Knowing me, knowing what I have done and what I could do would you agree with a request, from me of all people?"

"It would depend on the request." I knew, that so long as it didn't involve blood or something ridiculously stupid I would probably agree with it anyway. But it was best to not come off as a fool.

Megumi, who was silent throughout my previous communication, perked up once again.

"Ooh Kaoru, acting coy as well! Dear you will be sleeping with the enemy soon enough!"

It was only with the training of years and years of meditation that I didn't react.

"Shaddup fox. You are talking shit. Kaoru ain’t that stupid. And she defiantly ain’t into nut jobs either!" Yahiko sulked, finally out of curses to hurl at Enishi and his lineage.

"Would you train me?"

Ok, a minute of pause for that one. Of all the requests, I would not have guessed that this would be one of them.

"W-what?" humm, stable pitch but I could have done without the stuttering. Not a bad job for someone who's brain has taken a holiday.

Train? Train Enishi? The man who beat Kenshin to an inch of his life. Why in the name of all lords would he want me to teach him anything? I should be asking him to train me his way of the sword.

"Ask him why." Megumi shifted beside me. Her eyes were firm and knowledgeable. She was all business and now she was observing Enishi with a doctor's gaze.

I decided, not to my surprise to go along with Megumi's idea. The woman was truly intimidating at this point and pissing her off further could do me no earthly good.

"Why?"

Simple, think simple words Kaoru.

That flicker of hope that died before briefly came back into his eyes. Perhaps he was expecting an out and out rejection

If this were anyone else I would. My Kamiya Kasshin Ryu is my family heritage. It has, many times in the past been linked to blatant bloodshed, it was an insult to the school and myself. I should, by rights not chance it. But I simply could not reject him without an actual evaluation of his merits.

His was a soul that was haunted by ghosts of a past he cannot re-create.

I knew how that felt. I lived with these ghosts everyday. I wouldn't want to be rejected for my desire, and I could not reject him for his.

"Because she still does not smile."

I have no need to ask who 'she' was.

Tomoe.

Enishi, in his consuming quest for revenge, performed acts of destruction to get a smile from the ghost of his sister.

He never got it that and it is clear that it still eludes him.

Yahiko bristled. "Well just caus Tomoe isn't smiling at him doesen't mean he can use you as a replacement! What he wants you to teach him your sword style and get **it**  to smile at him? Nutter, the bastard's a nutter!"

"Learning to fight all over again will not make her any happier. Yes my style doesn't condone death or bloodshed but there are now plenty of styles out there that teach the same thing. Why pick this one." I state sharply. I dislike the idea that I could be the proxy of someone else's redemption. I had that illusion once, and its failure still burned.

"I know fighting won't make her happy. But it is the only option that I have."

Not too strange a thought. He was after all, the head of the Chinese underground. I suppose he needed to enforce his power through force, if not death altogether. Weakness would be the end of him.

"Then why me?"

"Because you don't smile either."

It took me a moment to grasp the full impact of what he meant. Tomoe was Enishi's judge and jury when it came to his conscience. Her smile was approval and the lack of it her disdain.

He didn't see me smile?

Was I also one of his judges?

"I smile every day, thank you very much!" I answered. And it was true. Every morning I greeted my students with a sunny smile before giving them grief to the edges of their endurance.

He raised a sceptic eyebrow.

"I have a theory that women learn the art of a false smile before they learn how to walk. You do not smile, you twitch your lips and people nod. It is about as real as a dream."

"Busted." Yahiko muttered, still glaring at Enishi.

Darn it, the boy was supposed to be on my side! Not on whichever side that suited him!

"And you would know this how?"

"The same way you knew I was coming."

I gave him that much. I was not going to say a thing about what happened last night. And apparently he was not going to mention his sources as well. We were at an impasse.

"I take my leave this evening." He vaguely to the direction of my front gate, "I will send a messenger tomorrow at about mid day. Give him your answer."

He turned once again and made his way to the shadows of the trees. The idiot didn't even use the front door to get out.

Yahiko once again had choice statements about his intelligence.

I was suddenly very, very annoyed.

I was not going to be bullied into anything. If he wanted to repent for his sins, oh I was going to MAKE him earn it.

"Tomorrow, after sunset. Meet me in the dojo and bring your own hakama and gi. I am going to be as hard as humanly possible on you so be prepared for it."

"THE HELL?!" Yahiko shrieked.

From the back, it was hard to see if he was smiling or not, but something about Enishi's stance seemed to shriek out his amusement.

He nodded once and continued on his merry way into the shadows and presumably over my garden wall.

I felt as though I was duped by a very efficient snake charmer.

Megumi hummed under her breath. "Unless I'm mistaken Tanuki, things are just about to get very, very interesting around here."

Interesting.

Unless I'm mistaken, isn't 'interesting' a part of a curse? 1

I doubt I needed any more curses resting on my head.

 


End file.
